


More than Enough

by idleteen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: BoyxBoy, Fluff, M/M, Smut, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idleteen/pseuds/idleteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall is a spark of light; a streetlamp when Zayn’s alone in the dark, the flame of a lighter when his hands are cold. Zayn is the cigarette on the other end of that lighter; addictive like nicotine and prepared to kill you slowly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More than Enough

**Author's Note:**

> So basically the one in which Zayn has a bad trip and Niall is there for him, because he's always there for him. My first work posted here, I hope you like it x

Zayn’s pretty sure that the way Niall’s eyelashes flutter when he sleeps could solve any war, poverty stricken nation, and world hunger. The boy’s a vivid dreamer, always kicking and rustling and muttering incoherencies in his sleep. Sometimes he murmurs Zayn’s own name into his dark skin, causing the raven-haired boy’s heart to swell and his eyes to water because there’s nothing he loves more than that thick Irish accent. And Zayn will not say a word of it when they wake up, because those are personal conversations that he buries in the back of his mind, only recalling them when he can’t sleep at night.

Zayn can’t sleep tonight. Well not anymore. Not now that he’s mostly sober and the memories of five hours ago are coming back to him; resurfacing like glass on the bottom of the ocean, appearing on the shore without all the sharp edges it had when it first dropped in. Things are fuzzy and muffled and all Zayn can truly recall is the way his legs felt when he stumbled through the door and that Irish accent sounding panicked as it got closer to him. He remembers callused fingers finding his forearms, gripping him there to keep him steady, before reaching around his waist and allowing his weight to be shifted onto a slightly shorter shoulder.

He remembers being led into the bathroom, where Niall turned the water on and let it run as he returned to his boyfriend. Those hands slipped beneath Zayn’s leather jacket, pushing it over his shoulders and onto the floor, followed by his shirt, and finally getting to his belt and pushing his trousers down as well. And Zayn remembers Niall crying; he recalls the way the boy climbed behind him under the shower of water and held him there, whispering things like “please, please, please” and “you’re going to be okay, baby, you’re going to be okay”. He might have even been praying, it was difficult to remember. All Zayn could think was “this is it...I’m finally going to die.” And now, lying in bed with a blonde head nuzzled into his shoulder, he thinks “that could have been it...I could have died and left Niall all alone.”

The thing is, it just might have been better that way. Niall is a spark of light; a streetlamp when Zayn’s alone in the dark, the flame of a lighter when his hands are cold. Zayn is the cigarette on the other end of that lighter; addictive like nicotine and prepared to kill you slowly.

Niall rustles, making a small unhappy sound in the back of his throat as he tries to find a more comfortable way to cuddle into the older boy. Zayn sighs and wraps his arm around the smaller, holding him close as if to protect him; like somehow he’s in danger. The only danger here, however, is Zayn himself. He’s like a plague or a malignant tumor; spreading and destroying, spreading and destroying.

Niall stirs again, nudging his knee into Zayn’s, who doesn’t bother to move. The raven-haired boy has a feeling he might wake up, and takes to staring at the ceiling for a lack of knowing of what to do.

“Zayn?” a sleepy Irish accent slurs into his boyfriend’s shoulder.

The older boy does not respond, or move for that matter.

“Zayn, are you awake?”

Zayn wishes he could pretend to be asleep. He wishes Niall’s eyes could have remained shut and safe until he finally wiggled over to his own side of the bed, giving him an opportunity to leave. Zayn wishes that he left a long time ago.

Niall looks up though, resting his chin on Zayn’s chest and staring at his boyfriend who refuses to look back. He knows that there are two blue spheres, probably reflecting the light from the streetlamp outside their window, waiting to peer into his soul. And he knows that when Niall looks, Niall sees, and it’s not often that the two go hand-in-hand. It used to be something that he admired about the younger boy. It still is, he just wishes he could see something other than the truth in Zayn.

“Are you going to make me check your pulse?” Niall asks in a whisper, “I’d like to know if you’re alive, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Zayn sighs, and finally allows the magnets that are blue eyes to capture his hazel gaze. And, despite everything, Niall is smiling. It’s a soft gesture that contrasts everything about Zayn, who can only stare and try to imagine a day when he wasn’t positively in love with this boy.

A long moment of silence ensues in which Niall’s smile fades into a slight frown and the small spark in his eyes dies. It’s a strange thing to observe; like seeing the moon too early in the morning and watching as it fades and fades into the blueness of the sky.

“What are you thinking about?” Zayn asks, his voice hoarser than usual.

Niall shrugs and focuses on tracing the tattoo on Zayn’s shoulder, “I’m just trying to figure out why you keep trying to leave me.” The older boy’s heart stops for a second and he wishes it would just stay that way. His most recent cocaine trip almost did the job...almost.

“’m not trying to leave you, Niall,” he insists, “That’s really the last thing I want. But I’m rather selfish...”

“I’m just glad you’re alright.”

There’s a strenuously long pause before Zayn asks why.

“What’d you mean?” Niall responds, looking sadly confused.

“Why do you care? Why do you stay, Niall? You could do so much better than me. You deserve so much better than me. You deserve someone who doesn’t stumble home stoned every other night...”

Niall is quiet. Niall is very quiet and it makes Zayn nervous because if there is one thing that his boyfriend is not, it’s quiet.

“I stay,” he finally starts, “Because I’m in love with you. You’re more than enough...and I know one day you won’t need any of that anymore...one day it’ll just be you and me and that’ll be more than enough for both of us. Until then, I just want to take care of you when I can...because you take care of me.”

Zayn smiles because even when he is dangerously close to tears Niall can make him happy. “You have far too much faith in me.”

Niall kisses Zayn’s throat, “No, I have just enough,” he murmurs. He plants a similar kiss a couple inches down followed by another and another and another until his lips are brushing over the tattoos on his chest. The older boy groans slightly when teeth nip at the wings spread beneath his collarbones, surly leaving a small bruise. And pretty soon Niall is completely on top of him, straddling his waist and bringing lips back to lips.

“Niall,” Zayn whispers, because he’s still unsure. He heard and listened to every word Niall has said, and he wishes that one day things can be as easy as he envisions...he wishes that one day Niall will be enough because, truthfully, he’s still trying to figure out why he’s not. But until then, Zayn is unsure. He wants Niall to have everything he can’t give him...which is too much.

During this extraordinarily simple reflection of Zayn’s innermost thoughts, he’s completely missed the younger boy moving down his body and settling between his legs. Familiar callused fingers fiddle with the waistband of Zayn’s black boxers, teasing him and causing his dick to twitch.

“Niall,” Zayn whispers again, this time more urgent. “I don’t think...”

But then the blonde boy’s eyes droop sadly like he knows exactly what his boyfriend is thinking; and the thought of his boyfriend not wanting to be his boyfriend anymore causes his heart to hurt. Nonetheless, he sets a kiss to one tan hipbone, and then the other. He looks back up at Zayn, who bites his lip and shakes his head. Niall tries again, figuring if he sinks his teeth into the same bones he just kissed, the older boy will have to change his mind. So he does and it prompts a muffled moan from Zayn and suddenly his erection is much more prominent against Niall.

“Niall,” Zayn breathes, sounding exasperated at last.

Niall hovers over the older boy’s boxers, digging his fingers beneath the waist band and pulling them down. Zayn protests again and he stops, looking back up at his boyfriend. His eyes are so innocent, which doesn’t help the problem in his pants, but he’s just...unsure. But Niall looks so sad as he whimpers and nearly begs, “Please, baby? Please?”

And all Zayn can do is close his eyes and say “I love you” and hope that it’s enough. Because he does love Niall; he loves him an immeasurable amount more than late nights and stumbling feet and the blinding high of cocaine. And right now he really loves the way the younger lad’s pink lips wrap around the head of his cock and take more and more until he hits the back of his throat. He doesn’t like the gagging sound that follows, but Niall’s quick to recover and hollow out his cheeks and oh. Zayn moans and tries his very hardest not to buck his hips up and fuck Niall’s tight mouth but it feels so good. Despite his efforts, his dick has a mind of its own and pretty soon Niall is pinning his hips against the bed with the palm of his hand, keeping him from moving.

“Fuck, babe,” Zayn groans as that familiar feeling builds. Niall knows by now what that means, but doesn’t bother to remove his mouth from his boyfriend’s dick. He uses his hand to blindly stroke him as well, hoping to make Zayn come as best as he can and he think he succeeds when a cracked voice lets out an obscene moan. Niall swallows and strokes him through it, pulling off when Zayn begins trying to catch his breath, needing some air himself.

Zayn smiles down at him tiredly, his chest still rising and falling at a quicker pace than usual, while Niall puts his boxers back in place. The older boy, whose eyes are fighting to stay open, drops his arms in the space next to him, an offering to his boyfriend. Smiling, Niall crawls back up the mattress and curls up next to the warm tan body that he so much adores. He feels Zayn’s hand slow down the rhythm it had set stroking his hair and watches as his pretty eyelids finally fall shut.

“I love you,” he whispers, unsure if it will even be heard, but uttering it anyway.

“I love you too,” Zayn whispers, “More than the sun and the moon and the air that keeps me alive. And that’s more than enough.”


End file.
